


Choices

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John loves Mary. Sherlock loves John. Stuff happens. The usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mary is a really hard character to write because... well, she's not in the show yet. So I'm just making her character up.

John held his fiancee's hand as he walked her to her cab. They paused beneath a streetlamp and she kissed him, her lips warm and soft in the cold night air. She pulled away with a grin, climbing slowly in to the taxi. He waved her off as the taxi drove away, a broad smile on his face. And high above, watching from the window, was another man. Tall and slim, with a mop of curly black hair, Sherlock watched John fall in love.  
The taxi turned a corner and drove out of sight. John didn't come back inside, just called up the stairs that he was going to the shops- they'd run out of milk again. Sherlock continued to watch as John walked away. He sat down, trying desperately to fathom what was happening. The ache in his chest, the ache he'd felt ever since he came home, seemed to have intensified. He felt all his defenses being stripped away, the walls around his heart beginning to crumble. He couldn't run from it any more, couldn't hide. John was leaving him. It hurt, hurt more than Sherlock had thought possible. He wanted to cry. Impossible. Sherlock hadn't cried for almost thirty years. Not since his mother died. But now... Couldn't John see how much Sherlock needed him? John had given his heart to someone else, and Sherlock felt as though his had been torn in two. He silently cursed himself for the though. Sentiment. But he couldn't stop the feeling that there was- should be, could be- something more.  
John had been the only constant in Sherlock's life for a long time. For years- far too many years- he had been so lost. The day he met John, he knew. He was safe. John had pulled Sherlock out of a very bad place. He'd picked Sherlock up, dusted him off. He'd taught Sherlock how to be nice to people, taught him about friendship and loyalty and love. Even when Sherlock had been... away, when everyone thought he was dead, he'd had that thought to cling to. "I'm going home. He's safe. John is safe." But, God, it had hurt. Seeing John grieve for him, and being unable to help. Unable to run. Unable to hide. Forced to sit and watch as his only friend broke down, and Sherlock couldn't make it stop. And now John was engaged and Sherlock was, once again, just drifting.  
Sherlock looked up as he felt a light touch on his arm. John, back from the shops. He hadn't even heard the door open. John was looking at him with concern. "Is something wrong?" Sherlock looked up at John. His friend was looking at him with such concern that Sherlock actually felt his heart speed up. His lips twitched, aching to tell John how he felt. But he couldn't. Because John didn't feel the same. John had someone else, someone to love, but Sherlock? Sherlock was alone. Sherlock was always alone.  
"Sherlock?" The concern in John's voice seized hold of Sherlock's heart. What if he was wrong? What if John did feel the same, could Sherlock take that risk? He looked into the clear eyes of his friend, making an effort to keep his voice steady.   
"No, John. Nothing's wrong."


	2. Chapter 2

John fiddled awkwardly with his cufflinks, swearing under his breath as he dropped them again. He stooped to pick them up, fumbling over the tiny pieces of metal. Sherlock hung back in the doorway, watching. John glanced up at him.  
"I still don't see why we have to do this."  
Sherlock sighed. They'd been over it at least three times, but John wouldn't let the point drop.  
"John, we've discussed this. Our client hired us to investigate Mr Brown, and we have performed well so far. He has even gone so far as to invite us to his wedding."  
Sherlock was explaining it as slowly and carefully as possible. John looked exasperated.  
"Yes, Sherlock, but do we really have to pretend we're..?"  
"Yes. Due to a slight... misunderstanding on his part, Brown now thinks we are a couple and has invited us there as a couple." John began to protest, but Sherlock interrupted him. "For him to suspect anything else would be foolish at this late stage. It's only for one night."  
Mary opened the door, looking beautiful in her best purple dress. She swept over to where John stood and kissed him lightly on the forehead.  
"Greetings to the happy couple!" she said with a small laugh. John forced a smile.  
"You don't... mind, at all?"  
"Mind? It's hilarious!"  
Mary turned to Sherlock, pretending to scowl.  
"Just don't you go stealing my fiancee!"  
"Oh, I fear such a thing would be beyond even my capabilities," remarked Sherlock, struggling to keep the bitterness out of his words. If it was there, Mary didn't seem to notice. She struck up an animated conversation with John. Sherlock watched, the all-too-familiar ache of envy building once more in his chest. After a few more seconds, the sound of an engine became audible. Grateful for the distraction, Sherlock opened the door, gesturing to the others that it was time to leave. John shot him a quizzical glance. Sherlock sighed. Why did he always have to explain what was so glaringly obvious?   
"All London cabs share the same make of engine, John. It's not a difficult task to identify it."  
John merely rolled his eyes and led Mary out into the street.

The evening breeze was cold against the detective's face as the taxi pulled alongside. The three of them climbed in, Sherlock told the driver where to go, and soon they were making their way swiftly through the evening traffic. John and Mary were still deep in conversation. Sherlock distracted himself by making a careful examination of the driver's reflection in the rear view mirror. Ever since "A Study in Pink"- he allowed himself a rare smile at the name John had chosen for it- he had made a point of looking closely at the drivers of any vehicle he found himself in. Once satisfied he closed his eyes, focusing his efforts on memorising the route they took. Two more left turns, then a long straight section and a right should bring them to...  
"Here you are."  
Sherlock handed over the fare and exited the cab, his mind sharpening. Here was the hunt, the thrill of the chase flowing through his veins. His senses felt sharper than they had in days. He was ready for whatever the night could throw at him.  
He felt a slight pressure against his palm, and looked over in surprise. John had taken hold of his hand and was looking at him defiantly.  
"If we've got to do this, we might as well do it properly."  
Sherlock nodded crisply, blood roaring in his ears. He swallowed nervously. Ready for anything- except this.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well? Found anything?"  
It was later in the evening, and they were about to begin dinner. Sherlock nodded.   
"He's definitely taken it. He's got a gambling problem, he stole it and used it to pay off his debts."  
"How did you-?"  
"Later, John."  
They sat down. Mary was sitting opposite them, a small smile on her face. John felt his heart miss a beat. He knew that smile. It meant that Mary was planning something. Thankfully she looked away after a moment, turning instead to strike up a conversation with the woman sitting beside her. Sherlock glanced over at her, seeking to learn everything from a single glance as he had done with all the wedding guests. Married, but having an affair. Two dogs. A young child, probably about three years old. For a brief instant the task distracted him from his sweaty palms and elevated pulse rate, but he snapped back into his oddly nervous state almost instantly.   
Mary looked back across the table at Sherlock, muttering something to the other woman. She saw Sherlock looking at her and lifted her chin, matching his gaze precisely.   
"Go on then. Kiss him."  
Sherlock could hear every word, even above the background noise. And he understood. This was Mary's attempt to humiliate him. She had always been wary of his relationship with John. And this was her revenge, final proof that John had chosen her over Sherlock. The woman Mary had been talking to looked from Sherlock to John a few times, then joined in.  
"Kiss him!"  
"Go on!" Mary was grinning again.  
Soon almost everyone in the room was urging them to kiss. John was obviously getting angry, clenching his fists beneath the table, but Sherlock knew that they had to, or risk blowing their cover. Besides, when else would he get this chance?  
He reached for John's hand. John looked at him in surprise. Sherlock gave him a look that said "Just get it over with"- or at least, he hoped that was what it said. Beyond dilated pupils, elevated pulse and breathing, and sweaty palms Sherlock honestly couldn't be sure of what his body language said. Was that what emotions did to you? Made you scared and unsure all the time, but at the same time absolutely certain that this, right here, was what you wanted most? John stared back at him, then gave a tiny nod. Sherlock reached up to pull John closer and gently kissed him.  
Sherlock was by no means an expert kisser, but he put everything into that kiss. It was his one chance to tell John how he felt. For the smallest of moments, Sherlock could have sworn that John was kissing him back in much the same way, but the feeling was gone in an instant. After a few seconds they pulled apart, Sherlock suppressing a small groan of pleasure and longing. People all around them were cheering and laughing. Sherlock looked over at John, fighting back the urge to kiss him again, just for the hell of it. John's face was flushed red and he turned his head away, refusing to meet his eye.  
Sherlock's heart was still pounding in his chest, but he forced himself to concentrate on the plate of food in front of him. Slowly his breathing returned to normal, but for the rest of the evening he couldn't help risking so many quick glances at the man who had unwittingly become his whole world.


	4. Chapter 4

"No!"  
Sherlock stumbled back as the door slammed in front of him, but he pressed on through into 221b. John stood in the middle of the room, furious.  
"John-"  
"NO, Sherlock! We are not doing this! I- am in love with Mary, I am ENGAGED to Mary! For God's sake, Sherlock, I-!"  
Sherlock stared in shock at his friend. For the first time since his tenth birthday, his emotions were clear to see. Anger and disbelief were etched all over his face. John was visibly forcing himself to calm down, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.  
"I've already moved most of my things into her flat. I'll finish packing today, I'm leaving tomorrow. It's not goodbye forever- I can still come and visit you- but I can't help you with any of your cases any more. Mary is my life now." John's voice was dangerously soft.  
"B- but John-?"  
A stutter? Sherlock never stuttered! His speech was always dignified, always controlled! Sentiment, he reminded himself, was found on the losing side. He just hadn't ever paused to consider what the consequences might be if he ever gave in to it.   
"John, I still don't see why you can't just stay here and still continue your relationship with Mary. It's worked perfectly for these last few months, and you are extremely helpful to me on cases."  
That's it. Keep up the pretense that he's still a mere necessity, instead of the only person you've ever- Sherlock caught the thought just in time, banishing it hurriedly to the darkest corner of his mind palace. Who knows where it would have lead.  
Suddenly he felt a white-hot flash of pain sear through his head as John's knuckles connected with his face. His head snapped backwards and he stumbled, but somehow he kept his balance. John was shouting again.  
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you see that I'm happy when Mary's around? Just because a sociopathic monster like you isn't capable of love, you don't have to keep everyone else from feeling it!"  
John opened the door to go, but turned back to his old roommate with one last parting shot.  
"Donovan was right. You are a freak."


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock opened the door at the top of the stairs, a new sense of cold resolve flowing through his veins. He was certain. He knew what to do.  
"Wrong."  
John paused, his hand on the door handle.  
"What?"  
"I said you were wrong. I am capable of love."  
John turned and looked at him, a puzzled frown causing a crease between his eyebrows.  
"I have been a sociopath for nearly all my life, John. I had almost no friends as a child and even fewer once I reached adulthood. Except you."  
John's hand had dropped to hang limply by his side as he stared at the detective, trying to understand what he was being told. Sherlock sighed. He always had to explain the obvious.  
"John, you're the only person to ever accept me. Everyone at Scotland Yard hated me, hated being told how to do their jobs by an amateur. You changed that, I think. Lestrade especially trusts me now, rather than reluctantly using my evidence when he needed it."  
Sherlock was walking down the stairs, towards John. John still hadn't moved.  
"But you, John, remain the only person I truly view as a friend. And I-"  
"Stop this. Stop it, Sherlock, I mean it!"  
"John. I think I love you."  
Sherlock tilted his head down and gently kissed the shorter man's lips, softly at first but growing in confidence as John kissed him back. John's shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs as tears trickled down his cheeks. He pulled back sharply.  
"Sherlock! You... You..!"  
Sherlock blinked. John was furious, red-faced and yelling, and yet the tears were still glistening in his eyes.  
"Why did you do this to me now?"  
"John?"  
"I was in love with you for two years!"  
"But you aren't now?"  
"Yes! No! I don't- I don't-"  
Sherlock pulled John into a hug, the contact strange and unfamiliar but so very right. John melted in Sherlock's arms for a few precious seconds, then stiffened and pushed him away.  
"This cannot be happening. No, Sherlock, you missed your chance. I've moved on now, I've got Mary, we're engaged and I love her. Do you understand?"  
"No."  
"Really? I thought I'd made it clear when I punched you!"  
"True. But then you kissed me."  
"You kissed me!"  
"And you're still holding my hand."  
Sherlock felt John's fingers tighten their grip, and he took it as his permission. He kissed the smaller man again, and this time John responded almost without thinking. They were lost in a tiny world of their own, when a sudden noise made them look up.   
Mary stood silhouetted in the doorway. Her mouth was hanging open, and she was staring at them both in shock. After a long moment she turned and ran from the hall, a muffled sob trailing faintly behind her. John ran after her.  
"Mary, wait! It's not what it-!"  
He stopped. Something on the ground had caught his eye. He bent to have a closer look.  
Mary's engagement ring glinted up at him from the mud.


	6. Chapter 6

John picked the thin twist of metal from the dirt like it was the most precious thing in the world- which, in a sense, it was. A floorboard creaked as Sherlock shifted his weight, and John turned on him.  
"This is your fault!"  
"Oh? In what way?"  
"You... You..." John couldn't get the words out, he was so mixed up. Anger and grief were boiling inside of him in fairly equal measure. He focused on all that pain, picking it up and shaping it into the icy daggers of his next words.  
"You always see through everything. You can look at a man and tell him what he had for breakfast last Thursday with a single glance. You've torn lives apart with your logic, but you never once stopped to think of me. I looked up to you, I loved you with my whole heart, but you were such an arrogant git that you never looked back. And then you went and threw yourself off that bloody building. Well, I moved on. I found someone who I loved and who actually cared about me in return. And now you come back, you suddenly realise that I was actually worth something, and then you destroy my relationship with Mary and ignore the fact that I loved her, and now what? Am I supposed to be okay with that?"  
"John, you don't under-"  
"No, you're damn right I don't understand!"  
John turned his back on Sherlock, half-running out of the door. He had to find Mary and apologise.

"I... I think I understand."  
John breathed an inward sigh of relief.  
"Really?"  
"Yes. You were leaving, your roommate said he'd missed you, he tried to kiss you and you let him, and then you stood and kissed him while your fiancee came to pick you up. Perfectly reasonable."  
John felt a fresh stab in the pit of his stomach.  
"D- don't you think you're overexaggerating?"  
"I don't know, John! Tell me, what is the acceptable response to finding your boyfriend snogging another man?!"  
Her words stung, but John tried his best to keep his voice level.  
"Mary, I told you I'm sorry! I'm not asking you to instantly decide that the engagement is back on. I'm just asking you to consider it. Please, Mary."  
John's palms were sweating and he wiped them surreptitiously on his jeans. Mary looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly.  
"I'll need some time."  
"Of course," John replied hurriedly with a flush of relief. "Anything you need. Thank you."  
"I have a cousin who lives in Brighton. I might stay with her for a few days."  
John nodded. He wasn't sure what else to say, so he stood shuffling his feet awkwardly while he waited for Mary to speak. She didn't.  
"Well... Bye then."  
"Goodbye."  
John turned to go, but before he did so Mary lightly kissed his forehead.  
"John?"  
"Yes?"  
"I'll think about it."


	7. Chapter 7

Two days passed. John stayed in a hotel- he didn't have keys to Mary's flat and he couldn't face returning to Baker Street. His phone vibrated more or less constantly in his pocket, text after text flooding in.  
John. I apologise. It was wrong of me to ruin the engagement. SH.  
Please come home. SH.  
I meant what I said, John. I love you. SH.  
How could you cheat on me like that? M.  
We're out of milk. SH.  
I mean, you didn't just cheat on me- you cheated on me with Sherlock. Why him, of all people? M.  
John never replied to any of them. He scrolled absentmindedly past them, barely registering what any of them said. On the evening of the second day, however, one of the texts caught his eye.  
John. I've booked a trip to Brighton. We need to talk. You can see Mary. SH.  
John stared at the message, the screen glowing faintly in the dim hotel room, for what felt like an eternity. He desperately wanted to go, but whether it was from a desire to be with Sherlock or to see Mary he couldn't say. It was a terrible idea. There were so many ways that this plan could go wrong. John got to his feet.  
"No time to waste, then," he murmured as he pulled open the door.

The train journey passed mostly in awkward silence. Sherlock looked over a stack of notes and scraps of paper relating to his latest case, while John stared absently out of the window. There was a sudden jolt as the train ran over a set of points, sending Sherlock's papers flying all over the seats. He hurriedly collected them together and John bent down to help him, reaching for a collection of files. Sherlock reached out at the same time, but instead of the paper he took hold of John's hand. John's heart skipped a beat, and he cursed inwardly. No matter how much he insisted on it, he wasn't yet fully over his feelings for the detective.  
"John, I am sorry about what happened with Mary. It was my fault."  
"Yes it was."  
John pulled his hand away and sat back in his seat. Sherlock looked at him for another long moment, but said nothing. John sighed.  
"Sherlock, you can't keep doing this."  
"Can't I?"  
"No! I know you're a sociopath, but surely there's some instinct that tells you breaking up an engagement is a bad thing?"  
"Is there? Because that's just it, isn't it? I don't know what to do. This is all completely new to me."  
John gave a small laugh, but there was no humour in it.  
"Just my luck. The great detective gets one thing wrong and he had to pick the one that would hurt me most."


	8. Chapter 8

Together they strolled along the quiet streets. John was nervous. What would he say to Mary? How would she react?  
Thoughts like these filled his mind, uncertainty building. Sherlock hadn't spoken much to John- at least no more than normal. Almost like the past few days had never happened. John felt it like a heavy weight in his stomach. Relief, or sorrow? He couldn't be sure. This thought joined the others, clamouring for attention. They rounded a final corner to the street Mary had been staying on, and John froze at the scene that now met his eyes.  
A row of neat cottages lined one side of the road, as perfect as though they'd been cut from a story book. On the other side, the sea whispered gently in the light breeze. A white railing separated sand from concrete, and standing by this railing stood two people. A man who John didn't recognise, and a woman who was unmistakeably Mary. Kissing.  
"Mary?"  
The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. Mary pulled back from the other man and stared at him.  
"John?"  
"So, you were cheating on me. How long?"  
"Really, John, it was just-"  
"How long?" John's voice was soft but determined- velvet laced with steel- but underneath there was a distinct tremor. Mary's eyes hardened.  
"About two weeks. Ever since the wedding. I saw how natural you two were together, I saw how much you wanted him. Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice?" She laughed scornfully. "You clearly weren't worth any more of my time."  
John felt as though all the strength had been drained from him. Mary pulled the engagement ring from her pocket and flicked it casually into the sea, turned on her heel and walked away. The other man, the stranger, jogged over to catch up with her, slipping his arm around her waist. She didn't object.

John stopped breathing. He couldn't focus. The world felt as though it was tipping beneath his feet. He reached out blindly, searching for something that made sense, and he found it.  
Sherlock's cold, thin fingers slid between John's. He squeezed his hand gently and John held on for dear life, clinging to the detective as though he was his only anchor to reality. Mary had vanished from sight.  
John let out a small gasp, the sign that all of this was too much for him, and began to cry. Sobs shook his whole body, and he turned to Sherlock. The taller man made no move to comfort John at first, but as he buried his face in Sherlock's coat Sherlock pulled him into a hug. His long arms wrapped around the shorter man and he bent his head slightly to press his forehead to John's.  
John looked up, tears running down his cheeks.  
"John. I don't know what to-"  
"Don't say. Just-"  
John paused, unsure how to phrase it- the strange comfort that only Sherlock could bring, the shared moments that glinted silver in his memory.  
"Stay with me," he whispered at last.  
Sherlock nodded. He didn't move, just held John for a long moment. He didn't kiss him. He didn't make any move to take it further. He just stood, trying to comfort the one person who had ever mattered to him.  
After a minute John pulled away, wiping at his tears. Sherlock tentatively reached for his hand, and John let him.  
"Do you know what you need? Food. I noticed a particularly good fish and chip shop on our way here- you can always tell by-"  
"I changed my mind," interrupted John.  
"What?"  
"Or I lied. I'm not sure."  
Sherlock was thrown, his train of thought abruptly derailed.  
"About what? Why would you lie?"  
John stared at him for a few seconds. A rare smile tugged at one corer of Sherlock's mouth.  
"Ah. I see. Sentiment?"  
John gave a weak grin.  
"Sentiment."  
Sherlock's cheeks flushed pink, an abrupt contrast to his customary paleness. John turned to walk to the chip shop Sherlock had indicated.  
"This way, was it?"  
It was only after John had gone a few paces that Sherlock remembered how to walk. He ran over to John.  
"I- I don't really understand what to do. I've never felt this before."  
"You know something?" said John, turning to look Sherlock in the eyes "I think that, in the end, you understood better than anyone else."  
He reached up and kissed the detective once, and Sherlock laced his fingers between John's as they walked away. He was wrong. He knew exactly what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! :)


End file.
